Mercy Amidst a World of Death (Part 3)

Then and there, my mind processes a massive sigh of resignation.

When I die, the underworld will digest my death. From there, my fate shall help this woman become a more powerful mobster; I offer a small, but important contribution! To say that she wiped out a whole squad of Guardsmen, not leaving one alive… I reckon her superiors eat those stories up. Her rank shall rise higher and higher, she shall gain followers, she shall destroy her rivals, and eventually…

Perhaps she shall stand at the very top of our city’s underworld.

My life… My career in public service…

They were not just for this void to usurp me! Not just for some scum to exploit me! No, I’ve lived a fulfilling life; if I die here, I shall die knowing I lived with pride!

Mobster scum destroyed my family… Killed them all! And I am supposed to bow down to this asshole?! Do not forget who you are! Do not forget why you are a Guardsman!

“Never! I will never become one of your victims!” I screech.

But she, as always, dodges my words.

In her mind, she is God. And I am but a man.

“Forget your pride. I thought you wanted to find peace,” she says with stern eyes and a slight frown, lecturing me because of course she would. “Those two don’t mix, you know.”

“You bastard,” I growl, my body wanting to rip itself from these ropes and murder the almighty god before me. “Why do you think I became a dirty cop?!” I scream at her; I only thought of obliterating her with my words! “I’m here to fucking destroy you guys!”

“What’s your personal stake in it?”

“Only my WHOLE FAMILY! They—”

“Who did it?”

“Fuck!”

“Answer the question.”

“An Italian! What of it?!”

“Does Róisín Conlan sound Italian to you?”

“Fuck off!”

“So, you became a pig to hunt down some Italian guy for vengeance. And now you’re about to die before an Irish lady,” she sighs. “I reckon you couldn’t track down this one mobster, so you took out your revenge towards the mob as a whole, yes?”

“No! The shithead’s already dead! But it’s all of you who cause such atrocities to happen!”

Her eyes are emotionless, her voice stern. “The Guard kills civilians too. Whenever that happens, they order cops like you to cover up the evidence. You don’t want Uncle Sam’s men to look too close, in case they ever will look anyway. Your heart is in the right place, but such naivete is making me reconsider my mercy.”

How dare she?! I am the only one left. How dare she talk to me like this?!

But I cannot refute. I cannot think anymore.

She continues, and I listen. “I was born into the mob, you know. My parents were bigwigs, but they fucked up a mission and someone important died, so the Doyle Group executed them. Cute little Róisín was spared, but my idiot parents have since tainted the Conlan name.” She smiles with a melancholic edge. “I’m their strongest soldier, but even twenty years later, promotions have been hard to come by. Though I’ve risen overtime, I’m still amidst the lower ranks, doing the dirtiest work, the hardest work. I’ve become pretty sick of it all. It’s boring since I’m just so damn perfect at everything they throw at me. I mean, why do you think I’m being such an asshole to you?”

I grunt. Born into the mob… Does she mean to say…?

“In any case, I need to keep up the good work until I have an opportune amount of influence and men under me. Then I can destroy everyone up-top whilst maintaining my own foundation of power. Those men shall ensure I don’t trip and fall while wreaking havoc.” She snickers to herself. “I’ve done a lot of heinous things; I wonder if Satan will want to date me when I arrive in Hell.” She pauses, sighing, her smile gone. “I’ve always wanted to repay the city for my sins, but it’s not like I hate myself; I’m quite the fine lady. Plus, I’m willing to do whatever the hell I need to do. Makes me perfect leader material, no? Besides,” she thrusts the gun to my forehead again, and she growls, “unlike you, I did not choose the world of death.”

I am frozen.

Except for my eyes. Suddenly, they serve as the source of a river streaming down my cheeks. She takes the gun off my head, hostility gone. She simply stares.

What should I have done? All alone, what should I have done?

What could I have done besides throw myself into a life of damnation, desperate to destroy the one who took away all that mattered to me, and those who enabled him?

It was the wrong choice, after all? I could have started anew? I could have?

…I wasn’t even the one who shot the guy.

He was killed by a rival mob.

From then on, my revenge was finished. It failed, dissolved into oblivion.

It was pointless. I chose this path. She was born into it, fate sealed immediately.

Horrible lives we each have led. Wasteful lives. But Róisín, through betrayal and blood, shall crawl her way out of the dirt before her time is up… to give her life a new start.

What about me, who dove into the ground when I was all alone, fooling myself into thinking it was the best option, the only meaningful one? When I needed it most, where did my pragmatism go? Why did it leave me and my pride to rot? It’s too late. Róisín’s mercy shan’t extend anymore. I am going to die, because of that decision I made.

Róisín speaks again with a frown. “Why did you end up here? And what are you dying for? What did you live for? Reflect on it all, but do not reject any of it. Move forward into the afterlife. You’ll only get peace if you accept your regrets. And if you give up your resistance.”

My death belongs to the void. It belongs to Róisín Conlan. She shall kill me, and then the void shall swallow up my lifeless body, as if my life before meant nothing.

She wants to help me. She wants me to let go of my woes. Accept my fate. Accept her.

Indeed, it was a given; once I joined the Guard, I would remain there until I met a violent end.

Róisín is the deliverer. I cannot escape her. I cannot resist her.

I shall become her victim. Become a tool in her mission.

My life had its purpose, as foolish as it was. I saved many people through my work. I hurt many others. I loved my family, and my family loved me.

But what of deaths? In our world, most deaths are deprived of any meaning.

But Róisín is merciful. She’s offering it to me, a purpose in death.

She’s still living. She’s still breathing. If I had died in any other circumstance as a Guardsman, I would have no legacy. But I can live on through her mission to change this world of death.

Moments have passed in quiet. I had laid my head low and sat still. Róisín must have been giving me a weird look, but at some point she just sighed and sat down herself on the cold gray floor.

I almost want to thank her for the silence.

And now, all but one question remains. “What… if you die?” I ask. “Before you rise to the top, before you save this city from its wretched fate… What if you die?”

She sighs. Lengthily and pensively. Then she says, “Then… all the martyrs, along with me, will have died in vain.”

Died in vain…

“If that becomes the case,” she explains, “it will not have mattered if you were given time to process your fate, a painless way out, or last words. The worst, most undignified death, is one in vain. Bloodshed that does not serve the world in some way. Such carnage I hope to avoid, so for the blood I do shed, I have to shoulder my end of the bargain. Yet… there’s only so much power I can really have. After all, I dwell within the human body. A heart attack or a bullet would kill me as if I were a common woman. There’s nothing you or I can do to change our humanity.”

There are no words that can form from my mouth, soon to be lifeless and dry. Considering the inevitable, I should whisper and exclaim and laugh and scream as much as I can, but it’s impossible.

I have to submit to that purpose. To that purpose controlled only by her. I can’t help but smirk through my tears. It’s so pathetic.

But maybe this woman will actually achieve her dream, become a “benevolent dictator,” fix up this city, restore safety and prosperity. Then, if I have any consciousness in the afterlife, if the void has not swallowed that too, perhaps I can be thankful.

And yet, this woman is a murderer. She may just die before her dreams come true, or maybe she’ll become a horrid tyrant, or perhaps she actually has no dream like this at all. Though pragmatic, she has a god complex. My death could sink beyond sheer vanity if I submit to her.

Indeed, a part of me still fights. Her? She’s evil! How could submitting to her be a satisfying end?! A just end?!

But what else can I do? How else can I find peace? I can only believe in her goodwill, unparalleled confidence, and survivability.

There are many worse ways to die in our world, right?

Yes. There are many, many worse ways to die. My death shall have a purpose. Indeed, for a man of my world, this is a merciful death!

Even so, I may never know what actually happens. Is there an afterlife? Shall my soul watch over her with her other victims? Or shall the void smother my being into endless sleep, digesting my very soul? Why come to terms with death when I’m going to die regardless? What do these last moments of peace matter? Was this all just futile?

I chuckle through my tears. Whatever. Who cares? To accept my death is to die with pride and wholeness. Even when that acceptance means submitting to evil, a void, a dirty criminal.

“Heh, you’re sure taking your time with those last words,” she remarks.

“Róisín…” I mutter, my head low, but holding a subtle smile. My eyes shed tears, staring wide at the ground. “I’ll believe in you. Take my life, and use it for the people.”

I look up and face her. Her eyes constrict, becoming a pair of green voids themselves. Yes, as expected, during the very last moment, all the passivity goes astray. “Is that all?” she murmurs. The footsteps return. Indeed, her black shoes move. No empty sounds within a dark void. Alas, that mass breathes with bloodlust, somewhere, perhaps behind me or perhaps in hiding… but it doesn’t matter where it is.

I see now. The void is like a dog. Right now, it’s on Róisín Conlan’s leash. She uses her gun to kill off prey and feed it; maybe then it won’t bite off her hand. Well, there’ll be a time when the pet shall consume its human, and search for another plaything. But I hope it’s after she’s changed the world for the better.

Death bows down to her. On its own terms.

Indeed, it is I who takes this opportunity. I reflect upon my life, and make a full decision to live through her. My legacy is in her hands.

Her pistol is against my forehead. I grin nice and wide. “Here are my last words: Use my blood to save this world!”

She reciprocates my smile. And, from the very lips of my killer, comes a simple, final remark…

“Thank you, my martyr.”